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November 5, 2017 / hbrowne4

A Note to Mr Jenkins by Orla Ni Sheaghdha

I’m sorry Mr Jenkins,
If you misread my attentions.
I never meant, to misrepresent
My dishonourable intentions.

Your curly locks did you admire;
To great lengths did they aspire.
But now, alas, the day has passed
Since they did catch afire.

Your corvette evoked in you great pride,
Taken daily for its ride.
But dearie me! It hit a tree!
Now in the scrapheap does reside.

Hours spent you in your bed,
Eiderdown soft against your head.
Quelle shock! You gasped, when it collapsed;
Now the floor does in its stead.

Beautiful girls did you adore
Kissed and dated them by the score.
It wasn’t fun, when you met one
Who made your lips come out in sores.

Over alcohol used you rejoice
Whiskey, the poison of your choice.
How ironic, that too much tonic
Caused you then to lose your voice.

Joyful children in sport and game;
Brats! Your temper did they inflame!
Your blood had boiled, the game you spoiled
But rocks flew back and made you lame.

For George’s life had you green eyes,
Jealousy turned to despise.
You failed to ruin his world’s sweet tune
‘Twas you that got cut down to size!

I’m sorry Mr Jenkins,
If you misread my attentions.
I never meant to misrepresent
My dishonourable intentions.

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